Posts
According to a cryptic message from an email by Noah, I am hidden somewhere in this picture (along with the lovely BBR ladies and some random little man.) See if YOU can find me...
Thanks, Noah and Greg!
Cheers,
Mr.B
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
PhotoShop, I.
Looks like Yours Truly has been the subject of a PhotoShop project by Noah and Greg.
According to a cryptic message from an email by Noah, I am hidden somewhere in this picture (along with the lovely BBR ladies and some random little man.) See if YOU can find me...
Thanks, Noah and Greg!
Cheers,
Mr.B
According to a cryptic message from an email by Noah, I am hidden somewhere in this picture (along with the lovely BBR ladies and some random little man.) See if YOU can find me...
Thanks, Noah and Greg!
Cheers,
Mr.B
Happy Halloween/Wednesday, 2007!
It seems like the city doesn't know what to do with the actual Halloween Day, when it falls on a weekday. All of the craziness happened on Friday and Saturday night of last weekend. (And I'm sure there will be some more craziness this coming weekend.) But today, on the actual day of... people feel like they should do something, even though there's the tedium of the workday in front of them.
On the bus ride to work today, I saw a chubby, middle-aged woman dressed as a big, furry, dowdy bumblebee. Her glasses were askew and great big locks of her grey hair hung around her shoulders, but everything else was 100% fuzzy Bumblebee. She had big, black, fuzzy antennaes sticking up off of her head that bounced and swayed with the stops and starts of the #11 bus. And her big belly made a pretty accurately analogous thorax. She didn't look happy to be in her costume. Maybe she was thinking, "I have to wear this dang thing all day long."
At the 7 - 11 where I bought my donut and milk, the clerk was wearing a slap-dash whiteface getup, with big, black smudgy dark ovals over his eyes. Over that, he wore his normal glasses and the rest of his ensemble was the normal wear of a 7-11 clerk. At first I thought, "Well, maybe he's a vampire. Or maybe he's a dead guy. Or maybe he's a 7-11 clerk, making a subtle comments about his job conditions, by dressing as one of the living dead." That's what I would do. His make up looked like it was corporately mandated.
I didn't ask him what he was. I thought that would've embarrased us both.
Today doesn't feel like Halloween.
It feels like a Wednesday.
Already, I'm at my desk, making my way through a difficult contract draft. I have a ton of small detailed items to deal with, ahead of me. I think I would be annoyed if I had makeup on right now. Or a big, dangly pair of fuzzy antennaes bobbing in and out of my field of vision.
Besides that, I'm alone here in my tiny office. And is there anything more pathetic than a sad, little person, wearing some sad, little costume, sequestered alone, because of his work demands?
Happy (Day Of) Halloween, Everybody.
Cheers,
Mr.B
On the bus ride to work today, I saw a chubby, middle-aged woman dressed as a big, furry, dowdy bumblebee. Her glasses were askew and great big locks of her grey hair hung around her shoulders, but everything else was 100% fuzzy Bumblebee. She had big, black, fuzzy antennaes sticking up off of her head that bounced and swayed with the stops and starts of the #11 bus. And her big belly made a pretty accurately analogous thorax. She didn't look happy to be in her costume. Maybe she was thinking, "I have to wear this dang thing all day long."
At the 7 - 11 where I bought my donut and milk, the clerk was wearing a slap-dash whiteface getup, with big, black smudgy dark ovals over his eyes. Over that, he wore his normal glasses and the rest of his ensemble was the normal wear of a 7-11 clerk. At first I thought, "Well, maybe he's a vampire. Or maybe he's a dead guy. Or maybe he's a 7-11 clerk, making a subtle comments about his job conditions, by dressing as one of the living dead." That's what I would do. His make up looked like it was corporately mandated.
I didn't ask him what he was. I thought that would've embarrased us both.
Today doesn't feel like Halloween.
It feels like a Wednesday.
Already, I'm at my desk, making my way through a difficult contract draft. I have a ton of small detailed items to deal with, ahead of me. I think I would be annoyed if I had makeup on right now. Or a big, dangly pair of fuzzy antennaes bobbing in and out of my field of vision.
Besides that, I'm alone here in my tiny office. And is there anything more pathetic than a sad, little person, wearing some sad, little costume, sequestered alone, because of his work demands?
Happy (Day Of) Halloween, Everybody.
Cheers,
Mr.B
Monday, October 29, 2007
I Died Nightly.
I had a vivid memory of this experience the other night and I wanted to record it here before I lose it again.
For the full cinematic experience of this thread, you should probably click on THIS link. It leads to the website of the composer of the original score of the show that I am describing. His name is Michael Rasbury and I heard his music, six nights a week, for three months, three summers in a row. Play Track #2 in a separate window whilst you're reading this post. It's nice and Indiany.
In the summers of 1996, 1997 and 2000, I was an actor in an outdoor drama in Harrodsburg, Ky. The show was called "The Legend of Daniel Boone" and it was your typical outdoor drama. The hero, Daniel Boone, was a rugged, but charming man. He and his wife, Rebecca set out to start a new life for themselves in the frontier of Kentucky. There's lots of poetry about how beautiful Kentucky is. I always thought that it was included in the script to sell the state to the poor bastards who were stuck living there. At the end of Act 1, Boone's son, Jamie is killed by indians and his daughter is kidnapped. With his intrepid friends, he hunts down the indians and has a man to man fight with the baddest indian of all, Plukehmenotee. "Pluggy" is killed and this act forces the chief Blackfish to declare war on the white man.
In act 2, it opens with a wedding for Daniel's daughter and there is dancing and merriment for one and all. Then a messenger brings word that the indians are on the warpath. Daniel Boone goes to make peace with the indians and is captured. He lives with them for months and is actually adopted by the indians. It's clear that he and Blackfish are intellectual equals and that they respect each other. When Boone learns that Blackfish feels that he has no option but to attach the whites "when the moon is full", Boone escapes. He runs back to his friends and family at Fort Boonesboro and raises the alarm. They don't have much time before the indians arrive to lay siege to the fort.
Sure enough, in the very next scene, Blackfish arrives with his indian army. (We used to make the indian army look larger by hiding torches in the woods of the stage, behind the trees and lighting them. It always looked like there were hundreds of indians. There weren't. There were about ten of them. But there were dozens and dozens of unmanned torches burning offstage.) Blackfish goes to make peace with Boone and a bigoted frontiersman panics and shoots Blackfish, killing him dead. There is a moment of shock and then the Evil Colonel Mackenzie of the British army (and indian liaison) launches the attack and there's a devastating assault on the fort. Spears are thrown. George Rogers Clark and Mackenzie duel with swords. There are hundreds of shots fired on both sides. One indian scales the parapet wall and fights the settlers there. At the end of the battle there's an impressive 5 minute torch run, where the indians throw dozens of metal, flaming torches over the parapet wall, setting one of the fort buildings on fire. When that fire wall went alight in every show, it was something to behold. The fires shot up nearly two stories.
Eventually, the settlers come out and make their last stand at the fort doors. My character stands across the stage from them, waving his sword, rallying the troops, the remaining indians join him, with their torches and spears. One final assault is launched and the settlers mow them down with a barrage of fire from their flintlocks. The mortally wounded indians crawl and scurry through the trees to go die offstage. My character, Mackenzie, lies dead, a few feet from the parapet walls.
Daniel Boone comes down to survey the damage. When his back is turned, Mackenzie, holding his guts in, stands behind him and raises his sword to cut down the unsuspecting Boone. The Music swells. The audience gasps. And then a lucky shot from Daniel Boone's best friend, Mike, shoots Mackenzie in the back of the head and the villain doubles over backwards, sprawled out in a dead rictus onstage.
And then the dialogue begins...
Five pages of it.
With Boone furiously berating the man who started it all.
He defends himself and then calls Boone a traitor for living with the indians.
George Rogers Clarke steps in and calms things down. He asks Boone what happened.
Boone explains, his voice trembling because of his very real sorrow at the death of Blackfish.
George Rogers Clarke assures him that he understands and that when he gets back to Harrodsburg, he will set things right.
The settlers go back into the fort to tend to the dead and wounded.
Boone, alone, goes down to the body of Blackfish. He calls out to the indians he knows are there. He tells them that they can come claim the body of their fallen chief. That they won't be harmed.
An indian brave appears at the tree line.
Then another.
Then another.
Finally, there are 6 of them and in the distance we see their women, grieving over the dead chief.
Boone goes back to the fort gate and looks back to see the indians raise their chief over their heads and they carry him high, at arms length over them, singing the lonely wolf chant. An actual indian mourning song that all of the indians must learn.
When they get him offstage, Boone goes back into the fort, the narrator appears up in the blockhouse and the lights go to blackout and I can finally scamper off into the shadows, myself, and get backstage, where I can spit the sand out of my mouth, reclaim the costume parts that the indians have cleared for me and my sword back from George Rogers Clark. I know that I have two more scenes before the final closing tableau and then bows and then the onstage Meet & Greet that ends each performance. I know from experience that the two questions I will get asked is "Can I see your sword?" and "Are you really British?" That's just how it goes...
But before all of that happens, and after I was shot dead and during that mountain of dialogue, I had a good long time to just lie there in the sand, slightly upstage and look up at the stars.
There was a great big, wide-open space between the trees and I could see the stars so clearly up there. It was dark in our theater, in the moments after the battle. And the town of Harrodsburg, KY was small enough that it didn't really present much in the way of ambient light. So there was nothing except maybe cloud cover to keep me from looking at the stars.
I guess in the first few weeks of my first summer of doing the show, I thought about the fight sequence that I'd just had. Whether my sword fight was clean and clear. Whether I'd timed my entrance right. Or how my final death looked. After a time though, the pattern of getting shot and laying there in the sand for so long became an experience all to itself. I would look up at the stars and admire how bright they were. How far away they must be. How long before I was born had they been burning? And how long after me would they continue to burn?
I would feel very, very small, laying there in the sand. And yet, I would feel very, very connected to something much larger than me. Connected to the universe.
And then the blackout would happen and I would scurry through the sally port gate and someone would hand me my hat and someone else would hand me my sword and the night would go on with it's normal pace... but for a few minutes every night, I was alone, onstage, dying in the sand. A bit character in someone else's play, laying there and expanding his gaze upwards and extending his consciousness into the universe, itself. And those moments would feel very, very vivid to me. I can remember that experience even now. Seven years later.
In all fairness, I should also mention that I did a lot of drugs in those summers and explored a carnival of hallucinogens. I was never high onstage (are you kidding? One run in the wrong direction and someone would shoot you with a flintlock rifle!), but my consciousness was being expanded for me, that summer. And those nightly death scenes were a part of it all...
Cheers,
Mr.B
That's me. As Colonel Mackenzie. In the Legend of Daniel Boone. In 2000.
The MuttonChops were real.
Photo credit has got to go to the Inimitable Mr. John Kibler.
For the full cinematic experience of this thread, you should probably click on THIS link. It leads to the website of the composer of the original score of the show that I am describing. His name is Michael Rasbury and I heard his music, six nights a week, for three months, three summers in a row. Play Track #2 in a separate window whilst you're reading this post. It's nice and Indiany.
In the summers of 1996, 1997 and 2000, I was an actor in an outdoor drama in Harrodsburg, Ky. The show was called "The Legend of Daniel Boone" and it was your typical outdoor drama. The hero, Daniel Boone, was a rugged, but charming man. He and his wife, Rebecca set out to start a new life for themselves in the frontier of Kentucky. There's lots of poetry about how beautiful Kentucky is. I always thought that it was included in the script to sell the state to the poor bastards who were stuck living there. At the end of Act 1, Boone's son, Jamie is killed by indians and his daughter is kidnapped. With his intrepid friends, he hunts down the indians and has a man to man fight with the baddest indian of all, Plukehmenotee. "Pluggy" is killed and this act forces the chief Blackfish to declare war on the white man.
In act 2, it opens with a wedding for Daniel's daughter and there is dancing and merriment for one and all. Then a messenger brings word that the indians are on the warpath. Daniel Boone goes to make peace with the indians and is captured. He lives with them for months and is actually adopted by the indians. It's clear that he and Blackfish are intellectual equals and that they respect each other. When Boone learns that Blackfish feels that he has no option but to attach the whites "when the moon is full", Boone escapes. He runs back to his friends and family at Fort Boonesboro and raises the alarm. They don't have much time before the indians arrive to lay siege to the fort.
Sure enough, in the very next scene, Blackfish arrives with his indian army. (We used to make the indian army look larger by hiding torches in the woods of the stage, behind the trees and lighting them. It always looked like there were hundreds of indians. There weren't. There were about ten of them. But there were dozens and dozens of unmanned torches burning offstage.) Blackfish goes to make peace with Boone and a bigoted frontiersman panics and shoots Blackfish, killing him dead. There is a moment of shock and then the Evil Colonel Mackenzie of the British army (and indian liaison) launches the attack and there's a devastating assault on the fort. Spears are thrown. George Rogers Clark and Mackenzie duel with swords. There are hundreds of shots fired on both sides. One indian scales the parapet wall and fights the settlers there. At the end of the battle there's an impressive 5 minute torch run, where the indians throw dozens of metal, flaming torches over the parapet wall, setting one of the fort buildings on fire. When that fire wall went alight in every show, it was something to behold. The fires shot up nearly two stories.
Eventually, the settlers come out and make their last stand at the fort doors. My character stands across the stage from them, waving his sword, rallying the troops, the remaining indians join him, with their torches and spears. One final assault is launched and the settlers mow them down with a barrage of fire from their flintlocks. The mortally wounded indians crawl and scurry through the trees to go die offstage. My character, Mackenzie, lies dead, a few feet from the parapet walls.
Daniel Boone comes down to survey the damage. When his back is turned, Mackenzie, holding his guts in, stands behind him and raises his sword to cut down the unsuspecting Boone. The Music swells. The audience gasps. And then a lucky shot from Daniel Boone's best friend, Mike, shoots Mackenzie in the back of the head and the villain doubles over backwards, sprawled out in a dead rictus onstage.
And then the dialogue begins...
Five pages of it.
With Boone furiously berating the man who started it all.
He defends himself and then calls Boone a traitor for living with the indians.
George Rogers Clarke steps in and calms things down. He asks Boone what happened.
Boone explains, his voice trembling because of his very real sorrow at the death of Blackfish.
George Rogers Clarke assures him that he understands and that when he gets back to Harrodsburg, he will set things right.
The settlers go back into the fort to tend to the dead and wounded.
Boone, alone, goes down to the body of Blackfish. He calls out to the indians he knows are there. He tells them that they can come claim the body of their fallen chief. That they won't be harmed.
An indian brave appears at the tree line.
Then another.
Then another.
Finally, there are 6 of them and in the distance we see their women, grieving over the dead chief.
Boone goes back to the fort gate and looks back to see the indians raise their chief over their heads and they carry him high, at arms length over them, singing the lonely wolf chant. An actual indian mourning song that all of the indians must learn.
When they get him offstage, Boone goes back into the fort, the narrator appears up in the blockhouse and the lights go to blackout and I can finally scamper off into the shadows, myself, and get backstage, where I can spit the sand out of my mouth, reclaim the costume parts that the indians have cleared for me and my sword back from George Rogers Clark. I know that I have two more scenes before the final closing tableau and then bows and then the onstage Meet & Greet that ends each performance. I know from experience that the two questions I will get asked is "Can I see your sword?" and "Are you really British?" That's just how it goes...
But before all of that happens, and after I was shot dead and during that mountain of dialogue, I had a good long time to just lie there in the sand, slightly upstage and look up at the stars.
There was a great big, wide-open space between the trees and I could see the stars so clearly up there. It was dark in our theater, in the moments after the battle. And the town of Harrodsburg, KY was small enough that it didn't really present much in the way of ambient light. So there was nothing except maybe cloud cover to keep me from looking at the stars.
I guess in the first few weeks of my first summer of doing the show, I thought about the fight sequence that I'd just had. Whether my sword fight was clean and clear. Whether I'd timed my entrance right. Or how my final death looked. After a time though, the pattern of getting shot and laying there in the sand for so long became an experience all to itself. I would look up at the stars and admire how bright they were. How far away they must be. How long before I was born had they been burning? And how long after me would they continue to burn?
I would feel very, very small, laying there in the sand. And yet, I would feel very, very connected to something much larger than me. Connected to the universe.
And then the blackout would happen and I would scurry through the sally port gate and someone would hand me my hat and someone else would hand me my sword and the night would go on with it's normal pace... but for a few minutes every night, I was alone, onstage, dying in the sand. A bit character in someone else's play, laying there and expanding his gaze upwards and extending his consciousness into the universe, itself. And those moments would feel very, very vivid to me. I can remember that experience even now. Seven years later.
In all fairness, I should also mention that I did a lot of drugs in those summers and explored a carnival of hallucinogens. I was never high onstage (are you kidding? One run in the wrong direction and someone would shoot you with a flintlock rifle!), but my consciousness was being expanded for me, that summer. And those nightly death scenes were a part of it all...
Cheers,
Mr.B
That's me. As Colonel Mackenzie. In the Legend of Daniel Boone. In 2000.
The MuttonChops were real.
Photo credit has got to go to the Inimitable Mr. John Kibler.
Relaxin' At The Green Mill*...
I have to give the Biermeister credit for this. It was Fred, from New Holland Ale, who, when asked, "Where should we go after the Town Hall closes at 2am?", answered, "The Green Mill, of course." He was right that night. And he's been right every Saturday night since then. It IS our favorite After Hours Saturday Night hang-out...
Here's what the wikipedia has to say about The Green Mill.
That's the joint that we frequent now...
Once inside, the first thing that you notice is that it's dark. The walls are bathed in a red glow and the deco ceiling features barely give off any light at all...
The Saturday Late-Night Live Jazz Combo is called The Sabertooth Jazz Quintet. The lead horn player's name is Pat. And he's a madman on the saxophone. After his set is done, he'll walk right off the stage, come up to our table and say "hey". He's the coolest, easiest cat you'll ever meet. He has to be. He's a jazzman.
Hendo is convinced that Pat looks like Neil Patrick Harris (Doogie Howser, MD) and likes to yell "NPH" at the end of the sets. Pat smiles and laughs it off. I get the impression that he's heard that joke before.
Take a second and look at the decor. Dimply lit statues stand in the corners, leering down at you, defying you to talk during the sets. (I've been to some shows where the audiences aren't allowed to talk during the sets and have to have all cigarettes extinguished an hour before the show begins, to protect the singers voices. They take their jazz seriously at The Mill.)
And if you look very carefully, you might spot a friend or two, hanging out in one of the side booths.
As hot as the music is, and it IS hot...
And as tasty as the hooch is, and it IS tasty...
The absolute best thing about spending the wee hours of the morning at the Green Mill are the good friends that I share it with...
I tell you, there's no place like it. When you're there, in the last few hours of the night and you're tossing back smoothly poured, chilled vodka drinks and the musicians have passed the focus off to the drummer and he's working his way through some unknown, alien exploration of the OTHER rhythms that he hears in the piece, and the waitress is annoyed with you for not paying quick enough, and a couple in the corner are quietly making out and the old man with the Crohn's is camped out in the bathroom, tapping his foot along with the song and the lights are low... you never feel more of a Chicagoan, than you are, at that very moment.
Right then.
Right there.
You've got it, man.
You're holding it in the palm of your hand.
You are a Chicagoan.
That's what I tried to capture with my pictures, the last time I was there. What it feels like to be in the right place, with the right people, at the right time, to be who you essentially are...
That's what Saturday Nights at The Green Mill mean to me.
Cheers,
Mr.B
For a nice peek down into the tunnels that run underneath the Green Mill, check out this little short film from the Tribune. (MEGA PROPS TO HENDO FOR FINDING THAT CLIP AND PASSING IT ALONG TO ME.)
*Bonus points to the jazzfans who correctly identified the title of this post as a reference to the Coltrane song, "Relaxin' at Camarillo."
Here's what the wikipedia has to say about The Green Mill.
The Green Mill, located at 4802 N. Broadway in Chicago, is one of gangster Al Capone's former speakeasies from the Prohibition-era roaring '20s. The bar was also a favorite of Charlie Chaplin and Gloria Swanson.
The bar was opened in 1907 as Pop Morse's Roadhouse. At that time, the bar served as a stopping place for mourners before proceeding to St. Boniface Cemetery. A scant three years later, new owners converted the roadhouse into the Green Mill Gardens. Lantern-lit outdoor dancing ran into the wee hours, carried by headliners like Al Jolson, Eddie Cantor and Sophie Tucker. Actors Wallace Beery and Bronco Billy Anderson "also visited the Gardens, hitching their horses to the outdoor post and settling down for a drink after a days work filming westerns at nearby Spoor and Anderson Studios (known as Essanay Studios)," says the Mill's Web site.
As the twenties roared, The Green Mill became mobster territory when Al Capone's henchman, "Machinegun" Jack McGurn, gained a 25% ownership of the club. Manager Danny Cohen had given McGurn the 25% stake to "persuade" comedian/singer Joe E. Lewis from moving his act south to the New Rendezvous Café at Clark and Diversey. McGurn managed to convince Lewis by slitting his throat and cutting off his tongue. Miraculously, Lewis recovered, but his songs never regained their lush sound. The incident was later immortalized in the movie The Joker is Wild, with Frank Sinatra as Joe E. Lewis and a Hollywood soundstage as The Green Mill. Of course, his interest piqued, Sinatra had to visit the club.
Throughout the 1930s, '40s, and 50s, The Green Mill continued to pack 'em in with a heady mix of swing, dance and jazz music. Uptown crowds from the Aragon Ballroom or Uptown and Riviera Theaters would "stop in for one" before or after shows. Business began to slip in the mid-seventies, and in 1986, present owner Dave Jemilo bought The Green Mill and restored it to its prohibition-era, speakeasy decor.
That's the joint that we frequent now...
Once inside, the first thing that you notice is that it's dark. The walls are bathed in a red glow and the deco ceiling features barely give off any light at all...
The Saturday Late-Night Live Jazz Combo is called The Sabertooth Jazz Quintet. The lead horn player's name is Pat. And he's a madman on the saxophone. After his set is done, he'll walk right off the stage, come up to our table and say "hey". He's the coolest, easiest cat you'll ever meet. He has to be. He's a jazzman.
Hendo is convinced that Pat looks like Neil Patrick Harris (Doogie Howser, MD) and likes to yell "NPH" at the end of the sets. Pat smiles and laughs it off. I get the impression that he's heard that joke before.
Take a second and look at the decor. Dimply lit statues stand in the corners, leering down at you, defying you to talk during the sets. (I've been to some shows where the audiences aren't allowed to talk during the sets and have to have all cigarettes extinguished an hour before the show begins, to protect the singers voices. They take their jazz seriously at The Mill.)
And if you look very carefully, you might spot a friend or two, hanging out in one of the side booths.
As hot as the music is, and it IS hot...
And as tasty as the hooch is, and it IS tasty...
The absolute best thing about spending the wee hours of the morning at the Green Mill are the good friends that I share it with...
I tell you, there's no place like it. When you're there, in the last few hours of the night and you're tossing back smoothly poured, chilled vodka drinks and the musicians have passed the focus off to the drummer and he's working his way through some unknown, alien exploration of the OTHER rhythms that he hears in the piece, and the waitress is annoyed with you for not paying quick enough, and a couple in the corner are quietly making out and the old man with the Crohn's is camped out in the bathroom, tapping his foot along with the song and the lights are low... you never feel more of a Chicagoan, than you are, at that very moment.
Right then.
Right there.
You've got it, man.
You're holding it in the palm of your hand.
You are a Chicagoan.
That's what I tried to capture with my pictures, the last time I was there. What it feels like to be in the right place, with the right people, at the right time, to be who you essentially are...
That's what Saturday Nights at The Green Mill mean to me.
Cheers,
Mr.B
For a nice peek down into the tunnels that run underneath the Green Mill, check out this little short film from the Tribune. (MEGA PROPS TO HENDO FOR FINDING THAT CLIP AND PASSING IT ALONG TO ME.)
*Bonus points to the jazzfans who correctly identified the title of this post as a reference to the Coltrane song, "Relaxin' at Camarillo."
Friday, October 26, 2007
HAPPY STINGER-WEEN, EVERYBODY!
Stinger performed the "Vampire Show" tonight in the 8pm Playground Set and also in the 10:30pm Grafitti show. Both shows went really, really well. Full houses for both shows. And the second one is captured on film.
The basic plot was this: I played a vampire hunter, Abraham Van Helsing (the fifth) and I was asking my lovely fiancee, Elizabeth to go into the Hotel Sangre, wearing a revealing outfit. I wanted to use her as bait to lure one of the vampires there to bite her, breaking the Truce of the Council of Tears. The Council of Tears was one night, every ten years when the vampires would meet to discuss business. They could not embrace a mortal, nor could a hunter kill them. Unless the truce was broken...
Meeting at the hotel, was an odd assortment of every possible vampire imaginable...
The Grim Eurotrash Vampiress.
(played by Sayjal Joshi)
Her former lover and obsessed "Renfield" type, Charles...
(played by Matt Larsen)
The host of the evening was a 1000 year old poofty...
(played by Jamie Buell)
A young "Lost Boys" type vampire from the South Side of Chicago...
(played by J. Ben Parker)
And the 200 year old vampire, trapped-in-a-child's-body, vampiress...
(played by Chrissy Swinko)
Ben's Brother, a werewolf, was played by Erin Pallesen, but we didn't get any pics of him. (Sorry.)
My fiancee, Elizabeth, did her best to lure the vamps into biting her...
(played by Kathy Betts)
...but they were generally too interested in each other to pay any attention to her...
Eventually, I arrived in a "cunning disguise" to blend in with the vampire crowds...
..but they saw through my disguise and blood was shed...
...my blood, actually, Chrissy killed me and the vamps fed on me and then turned to kill my doomed fiancee, Elizabeth...
Despite, his total and complete lack of resistance and even his blatant begging, no vampire would embrace, Charles. What a loser.
All in all, it was a fantastic show! Both audiences were right there with us, through the whole thing. We laid out our exposition as quickly as we could and then we free-formed the rest of the show, sweep-editing to be onstage with the characters we wanted to be with. Eventually, things ended up in a bloodbath and the audience loved that. (Well, with pantomimed blood. We didn't want to ruin these sweet, sweet costumes.)
Our second show lasted right around 30 minutes without losing any steam. Which has given us the idea of trying a 30 - 45 minute holiday improv show. We're working on that right now.
So, yeah, that's what we did this year for Stingerween 2007!
Cheers,
Mr.B
The basic plot was this: I played a vampire hunter, Abraham Van Helsing (the fifth) and I was asking my lovely fiancee, Elizabeth to go into the Hotel Sangre, wearing a revealing outfit. I wanted to use her as bait to lure one of the vampires there to bite her, breaking the Truce of the Council of Tears. The Council of Tears was one night, every ten years when the vampires would meet to discuss business. They could not embrace a mortal, nor could a hunter kill them. Unless the truce was broken...
Meeting at the hotel, was an odd assortment of every possible vampire imaginable...
The Grim Eurotrash Vampiress.
(played by Sayjal Joshi)
Her former lover and obsessed "Renfield" type, Charles...
(played by Matt Larsen)
The host of the evening was a 1000 year old poofty...
(played by Jamie Buell)
A young "Lost Boys" type vampire from the South Side of Chicago...
(played by J. Ben Parker)
And the 200 year old vampire, trapped-in-a-child's-body, vampiress...
(played by Chrissy Swinko)
Ben's Brother, a werewolf, was played by Erin Pallesen, but we didn't get any pics of him. (Sorry.)
My fiancee, Elizabeth, did her best to lure the vamps into biting her...
(played by Kathy Betts)
...but they were generally too interested in each other to pay any attention to her...
Eventually, I arrived in a "cunning disguise" to blend in with the vampire crowds...
..but they saw through my disguise and blood was shed...
...my blood, actually, Chrissy killed me and the vamps fed on me and then turned to kill my doomed fiancee, Elizabeth...
Despite, his total and complete lack of resistance and even his blatant begging, no vampire would embrace, Charles. What a loser.
All in all, it was a fantastic show! Both audiences were right there with us, through the whole thing. We laid out our exposition as quickly as we could and then we free-formed the rest of the show, sweep-editing to be onstage with the characters we wanted to be with. Eventually, things ended up in a bloodbath and the audience loved that. (Well, with pantomimed blood. We didn't want to ruin these sweet, sweet costumes.)
Our second show lasted right around 30 minutes without losing any steam. Which has given us the idea of trying a 30 - 45 minute holiday improv show. We're working on that right now.
So, yeah, that's what we did this year for Stingerween 2007!
Cheers,
Mr.B
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Me. By The Numbers. If You Please.
A good friend of mine recently "ran my numbers", which has something to do with numerology. I don't know very much about that. I sort of lump it in with Astrology, Auras and other forms of Mystic Poetry. (Looks like I have some wikipedia reading to do.)
This is what my numbers reading had to say about me.
Now then, leaving aside your opinions of Numerology, if I handed this to you and said that my shrink gave me this psychological evaluation, what would you think about it?
If you're like me, you'd think, "Dang, that's pretty close to being accurate."
That really does sound like me. In both the positive and negative ways. The bits about ambition (read: stubbornness) and the bits about isolating oneself. All of that resonated with me.
Most importantly, the thing that I took from this, is that I should be more mindful of the opinions of others. As an improviser, an artist whose work is specifically dependant upon my ability to value the opinions and artistry of a small troupe of fellow actors, awareness of the opinions of others is key to the group dynamic. It's fundamental to my art, in a way that it's perhaps less important to stand-ups and comedy writers and theater directors. The Integration of The Other. That's key. And focusing a little light on it, because this numbers deal mentioned it, can't be a bad thing.
So, yeah, it read like a description of me, to me.
Did it read like an accurate description of me, to you too?
Numerically Yours,
Mr.B
This is what my numbers reading had to say about me.
The Life Path 8 suggests that you entered this plane armed to lead, direct, organize and govern. You are very ambitious and goal-oriented. You will want to use your ambitions, your organizational ability, and your efficient approach to carve a satisfying niche for yourself. If you are a positive 8 you are endowed with tremendous potential for conceiving far-reaching schemes and ideas, and also possessing the tenacity and independence to follow them through to completion. In short, you were born to be an executive.
You know how to manage yourself and your environment. Your ability to judge the character and potential of the people around you is an asset used to your advantage. A large part of your success in life comes from how hard you work. This Life Path is the most prone to producing workaholics. But your ability to spot good people and engage them in your endeavors is a special trait not to be overlooked. There is an inspirational quality in your makeup which allows you to become a great leader. You are practical and steady in your pursuit of major objectives, and you have the courage of your convictions when it comes to taking the necessary chances to get ahead.
With the Life Path of the number 8 you are focused on learning the satisfactions to be found in the material world. The Life Path 8 produces many powerful, confident and materially successful people. Most of your concerns involve money and learning of the power that comes with its proper manipulation.
This Life Path is perhaps the one that is the most concerned with and desirous of status as an ultimate measure of success. You want to be recognized for your hard work and achievements. The attainment of honors and acceptance into the club of executive leadership is all important. For this, you may find yourself very well suited to compete in the business world or in the political arena.
In relationships, you are frank, honest, and steadfast. You may be very much in love, but watch that you are not too busy and preoccupied to show it. Being the lavish provider is not always an adequate substitute for showing your devotion and affection in more personal ways. You have a great need for close personal relationships to mitigate and somehow soften your nature. You must find the time for love and keep it as an important project in your life.
The negative 8 can be dictatorial and often suppresses the enthusiasm and efforts of fellow member of the environment. Often, the strength of their own personality excludes close feelings for other people with whom they come in contact. Material gains and rewards often become issues of utmost importance, even to the neglect of family, home and peace of mind. Dedication to success can become an obsession. Emotional feelings are often suppressed by the negative 8, resulting in isolation and loneliness. All Life Path 8 people must avoid discounting the opinions of others.
Now then, leaving aside your opinions of Numerology, if I handed this to you and said that my shrink gave me this psychological evaluation, what would you think about it?
If you're like me, you'd think, "Dang, that's pretty close to being accurate."
That really does sound like me. In both the positive and negative ways. The bits about ambition (read: stubbornness) and the bits about isolating oneself. All of that resonated with me.
Most importantly, the thing that I took from this, is that I should be more mindful of the opinions of others. As an improviser, an artist whose work is specifically dependant upon my ability to value the opinions and artistry of a small troupe of fellow actors, awareness of the opinions of others is key to the group dynamic. It's fundamental to my art, in a way that it's perhaps less important to stand-ups and comedy writers and theater directors. The Integration of The Other. That's key. And focusing a little light on it, because this numbers deal mentioned it, can't be a bad thing.
So, yeah, it read like a description of me, to me.
Did it read like an accurate description of me, to you too?
Numerically Yours,
Mr.B
Monday, October 22, 2007
Happy Halloween Hangman! (and a few show plugs!)
A coworker at the theater sent this to me. I thought it actually was pretty great. It's a fun little Halloween variation on Hangman.
Check it out, won't you?!?
My top score is 490. See if you can beat that!
In related Halloween news, there are two nice Halloween shows coming up. You might want to check one or both of them out...
First up, this Friday night, at the Playground, it's Stinger-ween 2007! Homey Loves Chachi is opening the show, with their own delightful twist on a Halloween show. Then Cowlick is bloodying up the stage again. Finally, Stinger is presenting a thirty minute... well, you'll see.
We like to keep these things a secret until show time.
Here's a quick retrospective on the past Stingerweens!
In 2004, we debuted (and then chopped the head off of) the Zombie Harold.
In 2005, we carved we threw a Stinger Pumpkin Carving Party onstage. (We agreed not to tell each other what we were dressing like, until we hit the stage. Which was pretty great. We carved pumpkins and then spelled out, M-E-R-R-Y X-M-A-S on the pumpkins and exited humming "Hark The Herald Angels Sing".)
In 2006, Evil Stinger crossed over from the Evil Dimension and presented an Evil Stinger show. Afterwards, they crawled in slo-mo over the audience, killing them slowly while Carmina Burana played over it all. Luckily for us all, Evil Stinger was never seen again!
This year? Well, I could tell you. OR you could ask THIS guy...
That's all the hint, YOU get, Dear Reader!
So, yes, to sum up.
STINGERWEEN
FRIDAY, OCT. 26TH
8PM
$10
CANDY! COSTUMES! IMPROV!
The other show, which is ALSO a SPOOKY GOOD TIME, is The Belmont Burlesque Revue! It's on Saturday night. The 27th! At Midnight!
I will very likely be the guy with the Pumpkin on his head.
What can I say? The People Demand It! In addition to that, there will be witches, vampires, and bumblebees. Which aren't really that scary, but they DO hurt, if they sting you!
Also, sexy ladies will dance about and remove their clothes and shake their barely covered ta-tas at you! THAT'S worth the price of admission, alone!
Here's the flyer with all of the pertinent deets!
You've got NO EXCUSE to stay home this weekend, Dear Friends! There's all manner of Halloweeny Goodness going on! You should come out and check some of it out!
Spookily Yours,
Mr.B
Check it out, won't you?!?
My top score is 490. See if you can beat that!
In related Halloween news, there are two nice Halloween shows coming up. You might want to check one or both of them out...
First up, this Friday night, at the Playground, it's Stinger-ween 2007! Homey Loves Chachi is opening the show, with their own delightful twist on a Halloween show. Then Cowlick is bloodying up the stage again. Finally, Stinger is presenting a thirty minute... well, you'll see.
We like to keep these things a secret until show time.
Here's a quick retrospective on the past Stingerweens!
In 2004, we debuted (and then chopped the head off of) the Zombie Harold.
In 2005, we carved we threw a Stinger Pumpkin Carving Party onstage. (We agreed not to tell each other what we were dressing like, until we hit the stage. Which was pretty great. We carved pumpkins and then spelled out, M-E-R-R-Y X-M-A-S on the pumpkins and exited humming "Hark The Herald Angels Sing".)
In 2006, Evil Stinger crossed over from the Evil Dimension and presented an Evil Stinger show. Afterwards, they crawled in slo-mo over the audience, killing them slowly while Carmina Burana played over it all. Luckily for us all, Evil Stinger was never seen again!
This year? Well, I could tell you. OR you could ask THIS guy...
That's all the hint, YOU get, Dear Reader!
So, yes, to sum up.
STINGERWEEN
FRIDAY, OCT. 26TH
8PM
$10
CANDY! COSTUMES! IMPROV!
The other show, which is ALSO a SPOOKY GOOD TIME, is The Belmont Burlesque Revue! It's on Saturday night. The 27th! At Midnight!
I will very likely be the guy with the Pumpkin on his head.
What can I say? The People Demand It! In addition to that, there will be witches, vampires, and bumblebees. Which aren't really that scary, but they DO hurt, if they sting you!
Also, sexy ladies will dance about and remove their clothes and shake their barely covered ta-tas at you! THAT'S worth the price of admission, alone!
Here's the flyer with all of the pertinent deets!
You've got NO EXCUSE to stay home this weekend, Dear Friends! There's all manner of Halloweeny Goodness going on! You should come out and check some of it out!
Spookily Yours,
Mr.B
Friday, October 12, 2007
Gainful Employment is Found...
Well, I am formally employed again. My first day at the new job begins on Monday morning. Technically, I go in this evening for a few short hours of training with the former tenant of this job, but it'll mainly serve as an overview. I have to figure out the actual mechanics of my job, by myself, starting next week.
Here's how this all happened...
Truthfully, the story about how all of this happened, began here. In June of this year. When a certain unnamed fund-raising organization for a well-known college in Israel, picked me up for a temp-to-hire gig as their office manager. At the time, I was very, very excited about this prospect. There was a lot to be excited about. A New York Trip scheduled for September. Meeting International Celebrities. The office was small and I was well on my way to learning how to do the job that I was hired for.
And then things started to go wrong.
At a company-wide conference call in July, the CEO of the company announced that all hires were put on hold until October 1st. "Don't worry," said my boss, who looked a lot like a stern, disapproving version of Carrie Fisher, "This won't affect your position with us. We will just need to put off the hire until October. Is that okay with you?" And I agreed to it.
August and September began the downhill slide at the job. My boss complained about me, to me, on a nearly daily basis. Sometimes she would look at me with a naked "Are you fucking stupid?" look on her face. And that's how I felt. Stupid and Useless.
She would "teach me" lessons on how they do things, nearly every day, often times contradicting things that she'd told me before. I would fix things and there would be no notice of them. I would institute new procedures and there would be no interest in them. Eventually, I got to the point where I would pray for the days that she was out of office, most of the day. I was miserable. At one point, I went to my temp agency and talked to them about the very real possibility of getting out.
The month of September was particularly rough with that job. Most of the Jewish High Holidays are in that month and there were three weeks in a row that were cut short by the holidays. And for a guy who's on an hourly pay schedule, that much time off was really hard on me. I was broke through most of September.
And to make matters worse, they released me on the last day of the third short week, with no notice. I think that they were afraid that I was going to steal something or fuck up their ancient computer system (the one that they'd been using since the late eighties.) My boss rifled through my desk, asking "What's this?" and "What's this for?" and trying to absorb as much information as she could in the thirty minutes that she'd allotted me. She shook my hand, called me a "mensch" and I walked out the door, on the middle of a sunny Wednesday afternoon. (AS the elevator doors closed, I thought, "You guys are in serious trouble. There's no way you can absorb all of the duties that it took me almost three months to learn. You scooped up a cupful of snow and assumed that you'd charted the iceberg. But there's miles of ice under the water that you know nothing about." Seriously, the next person to take over that job is mega-fucked.
And so, I floated around at the beginning of September. I had big chunks of the work week off, to do nothing with. I emailed my resume to job after job from Craigslist and the Chicago Public Radio and The League of Chicago Theaters and The Onion. I must've sent out nearly three dozen resumes, each day. In between those, I temped wherever my agency could place me, but the pickings were pretty slim. One of the gigs they tried to book me for, started at 4:30 AM and went to 8:30am. In desperation, I took the gig. Later, I called and cancelled when I realized that no bus or train line near my house ran at that extremely early hour. I would've blown half the paycheck on cabfare to the gig, alone.
Of all the jobs that I applied for, there were three jobs that I really wanted.
Executive Assistant to the CEO at The Onion.
Executive Assistant to the CEO of The Goodman Theater.
Administrative Assistant for Victory Gardens Theater.
I wanted jobs that put me in creative environments. Jobs that utilized my clerical training, but applied my skills to making a product that I believed in. I thought that my theatrical training would benefit me at the two theaters. Or at least give me an edge over other applicants. I sent off all three resumes within a day of each other. That was two weeks ago.
In the meantime, while I was waiting to hear anything back from ANY job, I accepted this temp assignment. To sit at this desk, for three weeks at The Job Where I Literally Don't Have To Do Anything At All. And that was my plan. To buy the rest of the month with this temp gig and find something between now and then.
My temp agencies did not have any permanent placement jobs open that I was a good fit for.
It looked like I was going to have to do this on my own.
And then I got an email from Victory Gardens asking if I was still available and interested in the job. (I am.) Then they asked to set up an interview, the very next day. I scheduled it in the morning, before my training for this temp position.
I went to my interview at VG on Tuesday. I met the Executive Director and she was a lovely, sweet lady who was very interested in me and my background.
She was concerned that they couldn't meet my salary range. I assured her that if the job and I were a good fit, that I would be willing to come down a bit to meet them. (And not a huge step down. In fact, just shy of being a huge step down.) They promised to get back to me as soon as they could.
Then, that night I got an email from The Onion. It was asking if I was available and interested in the job. (YES! ABSO-FREAKING-LUTELY!) I emailed that I was interested and on Wednesday morning, they arranged for a telephone pre-interview for Wednesday night around 6:30pm.
On Wednesday morning I got a call from Victory Gardens Theater. Could I come that day and meet the Artistic Director? The best I could do was to arrange a 5:30pm, post workday meeting. (I secretly was thinking, "It has to be over by 6:30pm, though. I have another interview then.")
After the Wednesday workday, I raced to the VG and met up with the Artistic Director. He was, in a word, wonderful. We hit it off instantly. We knew the same people. We knew the same shows. At one point, he said, "That's how we do things here. I'm an old Jazzman." and before I could stop myself, I said, "Really? I'm a jazzman, too! I LOVE jazz!" and he smiled at me appreciatively. We both like jazz. Which means that he's going to love to visit my office. Because I play jazz in my office.
At one point, he said to me, "Tell me what you're most excited about, regarding this job. And on a similar note, Tell me what challenges you about it, too." I weighed it for a second, trying to mentally articulate what I was thinking and when I finally answered, this is what I said, "Well, I can tell you what excites me about the job, easily. This is the Victory Gardens Theater. One of the best theaters in town. I knew about you guys before I worked here. You have a good reputation for doing smart, solid work and I want to be a part of that. (This is all true, btw. I do think this about them.) And while Administrative Services isn't the same as acting or direction, I like the fact that my work DOES affect the work that the theater does. Sure, stuffing envelopes isn't sexy work. But the envelope that I stuff catches someone's attention and they come see a show. They enjoy the show and they become a season subscriber. Their subscription fee gets poured back into the theater's fund and that makes the next show that much better. All from a standard mailer that I'll be sending out to thousands of people who would have similar experiences. In that way, the small pebble that I drop, makes big waves on the shore."
And he looked at me and said, "That is a very good answer."
And I finished my answer by saying, "I am most concerned, right now, about the natural clunkiness that's going to happen as we transition from your current employee to me. She knows how to do her job. Very well, I might add. And it's going to take me some time to be as good at her job as she is. And that transition, as I make mistakes and learn from them will be frustrating for you (who have come to expect a certain level of experience) and to me, who just wants to do my job well. I think, though, that we can work it out together. I think that enough time and attention and patience from us all, will get us through the rough time together. And every day, I'll learn something new and get better."
He looked at me and said, "That is also a very good answer."
At 6:20pm, he excused himself to go upstairs and meet with the Executive Director for a second. But he asked me to stick around for a bit. I told him that I needed to step outside and make a quick call.
I called the HR person for the Onion and apologized for not being able to talk then. I told her that work was running a little bit over and asked if I could call back in twenty minutes or so. She was totally cool with it. In fact, she offered to chat on Thursday if that made things easier. I promised to call her back in twenty minutes, Come Hell or High Water.
When I went back into the theater, both of the two producers were waiting for me, already smiling. The Executive Director took my hand and said, "You know how we look at our staff as our family. We would like to ask you to join our family. Would you like to work for us?" And I tell you this... I KNOW how it sounds. But there wasn't an ounce of cynicism in what she was saying. It was a big deal for them to make the offer to me and she really meant what she said about the job and how she said it.
So, of course, I accepted.
She ran through the details of the job. Vacation Time. Sick/ Personal Time. The Hours. The Salary. Most of it stuff that I already knew.
Behind her, the Artistic Director said, "What are you doing, tonight, actually?"
"Nothing really. Heading home and dinner before bed."
"Because you really should go see our newest show. You'll want to be up-to-date on what we're running right now. And it'll be a good chance to see the Biograph. It's had a lovely restoration."
"Sure," I said, "I could do that."
"Great! I'll call over and have them set a comp aside for you," he shook my hand and then shuffled off, back upstairs to his office.
I got introduced to a few more people. Future co-workers. And took a second to look around the lobby of my new job. I remember thinking, "I am looking at these bricks, pipes and conduits for the first time, but there will come a day soon when I'll have seen these so many times that they won't even register to me. Right now, everything is new. Soon, everything will be old-hat." I thanked the staff, touched base with the person who is going to train me in the job and then walked outside to make a sad call to The Onion.
I got the HR person on the phone immediately and she was genuinely thrilled to hear from me.
She said up front how impressed they were with my resume and wanted a little more info about my background. I stopped her politely and apologized for taking her time, but I wanted her to know that I'd just been offered a new job and that I'd accepted. But that I was a huge fan of their work and was honored that they even considered me for the job.
She paused for a minute and congratulated me on the new job and said, "If you don't have any objections, there's still a lot that I would like to know about you. Do you mind if we continue the interview?"
And here, Gentle Readers, is where the ship left the map. She knew that I had just accepted a new job and wanted me anyways. I thought, "Damn. She really must've liked that resume for this discussion to be continuing."
This whole time I'd been walking in a slight sleet of rain from the VG location to the Biograph and I paused in the garden at the corner of Clark and Fullerton to answer her questions. She wanted to know about my background. What I did as a hobby. What my interests were beyond my office training. She told me things about the job. That it's an entirely new position. That the pay would be about $8,000 more a year than I was currently going to make at the theater. She said that it was a creative work environment and that they were looking for smart, fun, interesting people to work with. She said that I would be a good match for them and their workplace.
She asked me if I would like for her to submit my paperwork to their CEO and try to arrange a lunch meeting for either Thursday or Friday. And I felt sick to my stomach.
Yes, yes, of course, I wanted her to.
But I'd just accepted another job.
Of course, the salary was considerably bigger at The Onion. And that would look GREAT on my resume and be a hit in the improv/comedy scene.
But I'd already promised my time to the two very kind, very trusting directors of the theater.
But THIS IS THE ONION, MAN!
So, I said, "Yes, please do. But just know that if I have to leave this other job, I HAVE TO do it by Friday at the latest. And I can't leave it for the possibility of a new job. I have to leave it with another offer on the table."
She said, "I absolutely understand. I'll do the best that I can do to set up that luncheon interview for you." I ended my call and entered the Biograph with about 5 minutes before showtime. Feeling like a dirty, dirty person.
I felt like I was playing a very high stakes game here. Juggling jobs. Making and trying to meet deadlines. One job agreed to. Another job moving to have me jump ship and come work for them. I tried to think, "Do what is best for you." But I also ended up thinking, "It sure would be a shame to louse up this delicate negotiation and end up with NEITHER job."
Before the show began, the Artistic Director made his curtain speech and I took a second to look around at the theater, thinking, "This is my new home now, too. I work here. I can come into this theater any time I need to, to get stuff done." It's good to know when doors are open to you for the first time. At the end of the speech, the director saw me and gave me a small wave. I am, after all, a member of his family now. In fact, he sat two seats behind me, during the entire first act.
Thursday morning I had to come to the Job Where I Literally Do Nothing All Day Long and tell them that Friday was going to be my last day here. I'd forewarned them that the assignment might be cut short by a new job offer. So nobody was surprised by this. I promised to help find a replacement. They appreciated that.
Lunchtime came and went without any call from The Onion.
I spent all Thursday morning working to find a good replacement. Eventually contact was made and I found someone. I was just finishing a call up with her, when the Onion HR person called me cell phone around 2:30pm. She was asking if I was available for lunch with the CEO at noon on Friday.
And I told her that I wasn't. I thanked her for her time and her dedication pursuing that for me, but that I couldn't, in good conscience, tell those good people at Victory Gardens that I was now turning down the job that they had just offered me and that I'd accepted. As it turns out, I really did feel like I was a member of the family. As it turns out, my conscience made the final decision there. I couldn't go against my instincts for $8,000. She thanked me for my honesty. She said that she was really impressed with my resume and with my personality and now with my integrity. She said, "Sometimes new jobs are not a good fit. If this one doesn't work out, call me. I bet I could find a place for you at The Onion." I thanked her and asked her to hang onto my resume. If it doesn't work out, she's the FIRST person that I'm contacting.
And that was it. That's how I chose one job over the prospect of another. Right after my last call with the Onion rep, I felt sick to my stomach then, too. I felt like I'd somehow missed some sort of opportunity. Better pay and work at a place that my peers would respect. In the end, I had to literally ball all of that regret up and throw it away. It did me no good. And besides, there's no guarantee that the CEO wouldn't be a major douchebag. Or that he wouldn't hate my guts and then I'd be out of BOTH jobs. Absolutely fucked by my own blind ambition.
And my new job is a good job with good people at a good place. It's hardly a consolation prize. With The Onion off the table, this IS the brass ring.
A place to work with artists and performers and writers. I can take free classes there and see shows and meet playwrights and directors. I can audition for shows and see shows and dress up for gala events with my lovely lady. And who knows, the longer I'm there, the more likely I am to get a promotion and move up in the company. And find my career at this good place. All of those are good possibilities. I now work at a place with possibilities. And that's a very positive feeling.
Tonight I get an hour of training with the former VG Administrative Assistant. Afterwards, she's walking over to a nearby pub. Every now and then the Board of Directors and the VG staff have "pub night" where the subscribers can come and meet people and mingle and talk about the current show. That's tonight. As part of my job requirements, I am directed to go to a pub and mingle with my co-workers. That sounds absolutely grand.
Monday I begin my first day on the job. My first day as a theatrical company's admin assistant. My new job.
I'll be sure to stop by here and tell you all how it went. I mean, you've gotten this far. You deserve to hear the coda to the story, too.
Cheers,
Mr.B
Here's how this all happened...
Truthfully, the story about how all of this happened, began here. In June of this year. When a certain unnamed fund-raising organization for a well-known college in Israel, picked me up for a temp-to-hire gig as their office manager. At the time, I was very, very excited about this prospect. There was a lot to be excited about. A New York Trip scheduled for September. Meeting International Celebrities. The office was small and I was well on my way to learning how to do the job that I was hired for.
And then things started to go wrong.
At a company-wide conference call in July, the CEO of the company announced that all hires were put on hold until October 1st. "Don't worry," said my boss, who looked a lot like a stern, disapproving version of Carrie Fisher, "This won't affect your position with us. We will just need to put off the hire until October. Is that okay with you?" And I agreed to it.
August and September began the downhill slide at the job. My boss complained about me, to me, on a nearly daily basis. Sometimes she would look at me with a naked "Are you fucking stupid?" look on her face. And that's how I felt. Stupid and Useless.
She would "teach me" lessons on how they do things, nearly every day, often times contradicting things that she'd told me before. I would fix things and there would be no notice of them. I would institute new procedures and there would be no interest in them. Eventually, I got to the point where I would pray for the days that she was out of office, most of the day. I was miserable. At one point, I went to my temp agency and talked to them about the very real possibility of getting out.The month of September was particularly rough with that job. Most of the Jewish High Holidays are in that month and there were three weeks in a row that were cut short by the holidays. And for a guy who's on an hourly pay schedule, that much time off was really hard on me. I was broke through most of September.
And to make matters worse, they released me on the last day of the third short week, with no notice. I think that they were afraid that I was going to steal something or fuck up their ancient computer system (the one that they'd been using since the late eighties.) My boss rifled through my desk, asking "What's this?" and "What's this for?" and trying to absorb as much information as she could in the thirty minutes that she'd allotted me. She shook my hand, called me a "mensch" and I walked out the door, on the middle of a sunny Wednesday afternoon. (AS the elevator doors closed, I thought, "You guys are in serious trouble. There's no way you can absorb all of the duties that it took me almost three months to learn. You scooped up a cupful of snow and assumed that you'd charted the iceberg. But there's miles of ice under the water that you know nothing about." Seriously, the next person to take over that job is mega-fucked.
And so, I floated around at the beginning of September. I had big chunks of the work week off, to do nothing with. I emailed my resume to job after job from Craigslist and the Chicago Public Radio and The League of Chicago Theaters and The Onion. I must've sent out nearly three dozen resumes, each day. In between those, I temped wherever my agency could place me, but the pickings were pretty slim. One of the gigs they tried to book me for, started at 4:30 AM and went to 8:30am. In desperation, I took the gig. Later, I called and cancelled when I realized that no bus or train line near my house ran at that extremely early hour. I would've blown half the paycheck on cabfare to the gig, alone.
Of all the jobs that I applied for, there were three jobs that I really wanted.
Executive Assistant to the CEO at The Onion.
Executive Assistant to the CEO of The Goodman Theater.
Administrative Assistant for Victory Gardens Theater.
I wanted jobs that put me in creative environments. Jobs that utilized my clerical training, but applied my skills to making a product that I believed in. I thought that my theatrical training would benefit me at the two theaters. Or at least give me an edge over other applicants. I sent off all three resumes within a day of each other. That was two weeks ago.
In the meantime, while I was waiting to hear anything back from ANY job, I accepted this temp assignment. To sit at this desk, for three weeks at The Job Where I Literally Don't Have To Do Anything At All. And that was my plan. To buy the rest of the month with this temp gig and find something between now and then.
My temp agencies did not have any permanent placement jobs open that I was a good fit for.
It looked like I was going to have to do this on my own.
And then I got an email from Victory Gardens asking if I was still available and interested in the job. (I am.) Then they asked to set up an interview, the very next day. I scheduled it in the morning, before my training for this temp position.
I went to my interview at VG on Tuesday. I met the Executive Director and she was a lovely, sweet lady who was very interested in me and my background.
She was concerned that they couldn't meet my salary range. I assured her that if the job and I were a good fit, that I would be willing to come down a bit to meet them. (And not a huge step down. In fact, just shy of being a huge step down.) They promised to get back to me as soon as they could.Then, that night I got an email from The Onion. It was asking if I was available and interested in the job. (YES! ABSO-FREAKING-LUTELY!) I emailed that I was interested and on Wednesday morning, they arranged for a telephone pre-interview for Wednesday night around 6:30pm.
On Wednesday morning I got a call from Victory Gardens Theater. Could I come that day and meet the Artistic Director? The best I could do was to arrange a 5:30pm, post workday meeting. (I secretly was thinking, "It has to be over by 6:30pm, though. I have another interview then.")
After the Wednesday workday, I raced to the VG and met up with the Artistic Director. He was, in a word, wonderful. We hit it off instantly. We knew the same people. We knew the same shows. At one point, he said, "That's how we do things here. I'm an old Jazzman." and before I could stop myself, I said, "Really? I'm a jazzman, too! I LOVE jazz!" and he smiled at me appreciatively. We both like jazz. Which means that he's going to love to visit my office. Because I play jazz in my office.
At one point, he said to me, "Tell me what you're most excited about, regarding this job. And on a similar note, Tell me what challenges you about it, too." I weighed it for a second, trying to mentally articulate what I was thinking and when I finally answered, this is what I said, "Well, I can tell you what excites me about the job, easily. This is the Victory Gardens Theater. One of the best theaters in town. I knew about you guys before I worked here. You have a good reputation for doing smart, solid work and I want to be a part of that. (This is all true, btw. I do think this about them.) And while Administrative Services isn't the same as acting or direction, I like the fact that my work DOES affect the work that the theater does. Sure, stuffing envelopes isn't sexy work. But the envelope that I stuff catches someone's attention and they come see a show. They enjoy the show and they become a season subscriber. Their subscription fee gets poured back into the theater's fund and that makes the next show that much better. All from a standard mailer that I'll be sending out to thousands of people who would have similar experiences. In that way, the small pebble that I drop, makes big waves on the shore."
And he looked at me and said, "That is a very good answer."
And I finished my answer by saying, "I am most concerned, right now, about the natural clunkiness that's going to happen as we transition from your current employee to me. She knows how to do her job. Very well, I might add. And it's going to take me some time to be as good at her job as she is. And that transition, as I make mistakes and learn from them will be frustrating for you (who have come to expect a certain level of experience) and to me, who just wants to do my job well. I think, though, that we can work it out together. I think that enough time and attention and patience from us all, will get us through the rough time together. And every day, I'll learn something new and get better."
He looked at me and said, "That is also a very good answer."
At 6:20pm, he excused himself to go upstairs and meet with the Executive Director for a second. But he asked me to stick around for a bit. I told him that I needed to step outside and make a quick call.
I called the HR person for the Onion and apologized for not being able to talk then. I told her that work was running a little bit over and asked if I could call back in twenty minutes or so. She was totally cool with it. In fact, she offered to chat on Thursday if that made things easier. I promised to call her back in twenty minutes, Come Hell or High Water.
When I went back into the theater, both of the two producers were waiting for me, already smiling. The Executive Director took my hand and said, "You know how we look at our staff as our family. We would like to ask you to join our family. Would you like to work for us?" And I tell you this... I KNOW how it sounds. But there wasn't an ounce of cynicism in what she was saying. It was a big deal for them to make the offer to me and she really meant what she said about the job and how she said it.
So, of course, I accepted.
She ran through the details of the job. Vacation Time. Sick/ Personal Time. The Hours. The Salary. Most of it stuff that I already knew.
Behind her, the Artistic Director said, "What are you doing, tonight, actually?""Nothing really. Heading home and dinner before bed."
"Because you really should go see our newest show. You'll want to be up-to-date on what we're running right now. And it'll be a good chance to see the Biograph. It's had a lovely restoration."
"Sure," I said, "I could do that."
"Great! I'll call over and have them set a comp aside for you," he shook my hand and then shuffled off, back upstairs to his office.
I got introduced to a few more people. Future co-workers. And took a second to look around the lobby of my new job. I remember thinking, "I am looking at these bricks, pipes and conduits for the first time, but there will come a day soon when I'll have seen these so many times that they won't even register to me. Right now, everything is new. Soon, everything will be old-hat." I thanked the staff, touched base with the person who is going to train me in the job and then walked outside to make a sad call to The Onion.
I got the HR person on the phone immediately and she was genuinely thrilled to hear from me.
She said up front how impressed they were with my resume and wanted a little more info about my background. I stopped her politely and apologized for taking her time, but I wanted her to know that I'd just been offered a new job and that I'd accepted. But that I was a huge fan of their work and was honored that they even considered me for the job.She paused for a minute and congratulated me on the new job and said, "If you don't have any objections, there's still a lot that I would like to know about you. Do you mind if we continue the interview?"
And here, Gentle Readers, is where the ship left the map. She knew that I had just accepted a new job and wanted me anyways. I thought, "Damn. She really must've liked that resume for this discussion to be continuing."
This whole time I'd been walking in a slight sleet of rain from the VG location to the Biograph and I paused in the garden at the corner of Clark and Fullerton to answer her questions. She wanted to know about my background. What I did as a hobby. What my interests were beyond my office training. She told me things about the job. That it's an entirely new position. That the pay would be about $8,000 more a year than I was currently going to make at the theater. She said that it was a creative work environment and that they were looking for smart, fun, interesting people to work with. She said that I would be a good match for them and their workplace.
She asked me if I would like for her to submit my paperwork to their CEO and try to arrange a lunch meeting for either Thursday or Friday. And I felt sick to my stomach.
Yes, yes, of course, I wanted her to.
But I'd just accepted another job.
Of course, the salary was considerably bigger at The Onion. And that would look GREAT on my resume and be a hit in the improv/comedy scene.
But I'd already promised my time to the two very kind, very trusting directors of the theater.
But THIS IS THE ONION, MAN!
So, I said, "Yes, please do. But just know that if I have to leave this other job, I HAVE TO do it by Friday at the latest. And I can't leave it for the possibility of a new job. I have to leave it with another offer on the table."
She said, "I absolutely understand. I'll do the best that I can do to set up that luncheon interview for you." I ended my call and entered the Biograph with about 5 minutes before showtime. Feeling like a dirty, dirty person.
I felt like I was playing a very high stakes game here. Juggling jobs. Making and trying to meet deadlines. One job agreed to. Another job moving to have me jump ship and come work for them. I tried to think, "Do what is best for you." But I also ended up thinking, "It sure would be a shame to louse up this delicate negotiation and end up with NEITHER job."
Before the show began, the Artistic Director made his curtain speech and I took a second to look around at the theater, thinking, "This is my new home now, too. I work here. I can come into this theater any time I need to, to get stuff done." It's good to know when doors are open to you for the first time. At the end of the speech, the director saw me and gave me a small wave. I am, after all, a member of his family now. In fact, he sat two seats behind me, during the entire first act.
Thursday morning I had to come to the Job Where I Literally Do Nothing All Day Long and tell them that Friday was going to be my last day here. I'd forewarned them that the assignment might be cut short by a new job offer. So nobody was surprised by this. I promised to help find a replacement. They appreciated that.
Lunchtime came and went without any call from The Onion.
I spent all Thursday morning working to find a good replacement. Eventually contact was made and I found someone. I was just finishing a call up with her, when the Onion HR person called me cell phone around 2:30pm. She was asking if I was available for lunch with the CEO at noon on Friday.
And I told her that I wasn't. I thanked her for her time and her dedication pursuing that for me, but that I couldn't, in good conscience, tell those good people at Victory Gardens that I was now turning down the job that they had just offered me and that I'd accepted. As it turns out, I really did feel like I was a member of the family. As it turns out, my conscience made the final decision there. I couldn't go against my instincts for $8,000. She thanked me for my honesty. She said that she was really impressed with my resume and with my personality and now with my integrity. She said, "Sometimes new jobs are not a good fit. If this one doesn't work out, call me. I bet I could find a place for you at The Onion." I thanked her and asked her to hang onto my resume. If it doesn't work out, she's the FIRST person that I'm contacting.
And that was it. That's how I chose one job over the prospect of another. Right after my last call with the Onion rep, I felt sick to my stomach then, too. I felt like I'd somehow missed some sort of opportunity. Better pay and work at a place that my peers would respect. In the end, I had to literally ball all of that regret up and throw it away. It did me no good. And besides, there's no guarantee that the CEO wouldn't be a major douchebag. Or that he wouldn't hate my guts and then I'd be out of BOTH jobs. Absolutely fucked by my own blind ambition.
And my new job is a good job with good people at a good place. It's hardly a consolation prize. With The Onion off the table, this IS the brass ring.
A place to work with artists and performers and writers. I can take free classes there and see shows and meet playwrights and directors. I can audition for shows and see shows and dress up for gala events with my lovely lady. And who knows, the longer I'm there, the more likely I am to get a promotion and move up in the company. And find my career at this good place. All of those are good possibilities. I now work at a place with possibilities. And that's a very positive feeling.Tonight I get an hour of training with the former VG Administrative Assistant. Afterwards, she's walking over to a nearby pub. Every now and then the Board of Directors and the VG staff have "pub night" where the subscribers can come and meet people and mingle and talk about the current show. That's tonight. As part of my job requirements, I am directed to go to a pub and mingle with my co-workers. That sounds absolutely grand.
Monday I begin my first day on the job. My first day as a theatrical company's admin assistant. My new job.
I'll be sure to stop by here and tell you all how it went. I mean, you've gotten this far. You deserve to hear the coda to the story, too.
Cheers,
Mr.B
Thursday, October 11, 2007
My Laminated List: 2007 Edition!
You might be asking yourself what a "Laminated List" is. Well, according to the handy wikipedia, a Laminated List is...
I've always had more of what you would call "A Laminated Pool" as in A Pool of People, not written down on any list, that I would give myself permission to sleep with, IF THE OPPORTUNITY AROSE, however unlikely. In my mind's eye, it's also a sexy, warm swimming pool where these ladies play and frolic always inviting me to dive right in...
But I digress...
In the interest of passing another workday at "The Temp Job Where I Literally Do Nothing All Day" and of cleaning the clutter off of my mental desk (and because my lovely girlfriend is out of town and this is the perfect time to be a dirty, dirty dog!), I am hereby draining the pool and formally declaring my list. (I will laminate it later.)
Here goes!
1. Rosario Dawson
I mean, COME ON! This sexy little senorita has reigned supreme on my laminated list before there ever was one! I fast-forwarded through that shitty "Alexander" to just catch a glimpse of her astounding mega-rack and when I saw them, my chest clutched up like an old Chevy and I nearly fell to the floor dead, right then and there.
I won't look at that scene again. I barely survived it the first time. A second viewing would surely kill me.
2. Anne Heche
I know what you're thinking.
Anne Heche?!? ANNE "I THINK I'M GOD'S DAUGHTER, CELESTIA, ALSO I MIGHT BE A LESBIAN AND I FREQUENTLY HAVE MENTAL BREAKDOWNS" HECHE?!?
Yes, THAT Anne Heche.
Look friends, this isn't the "Girls I Want To Marry And Deal With For Life" List. It's the "Girl I'd Bang All Over A Luxurious Hollywood Hotel" List. And for a wild weekend of sexy-friction, I can deal with the well-documented, internationally-famous baggage that she brings to the table.
Anne Heche is hot. Super hot. Agelessly Sexy, Hot. And what's more, she looks even better as a brunette. After I saw "Birth", I first thought, "Damn, that's a fucked up movie" and then I thought, "Sure, I can see why that dude fucked Anne Heche. She's so hot, she smolders." I mean, just LOOK at her.
That sexy, sultry lady needs a few glasses of wine in her before her motor starts purring, but once it does, she and I are totally going to destroy that tasteful coffee table of hers.
From here on out, the list gets a little fuzzy as I'm making this up as I go along...
3. Ashley Robbins
I feel obligated as a healthy, heterosexual American man to include a single porn star on my list and this is the one that I've chosen.
Sure, I can think of one or two others. Heather Brooke looks like she knows a dirty trick or two. Keeley Hazel would talk dirty to you with an English accent, that's got to be like having hot English Toffee poured on your dick. But Ashley Robbins, formerly of the Czech Republic, is the porno Tilt-A-Whirl that I would very much like to take a ride on.
Look, I won't bother listing her many talents here. Google her when you get home (without the Safe Filter) on and you'll get an idea of what she's capable of. Experimental Home Gynecology is definitely on that list.
Lord A Mercy Mighty.
4. Claire Forlani
"Nice sleeper camper, kiddo. Scoot over. I'm comin' in."
Um, yes, well, Claire Forlani. A woman that really is retardedly beautiful. Her eyes, wow, they're like cat's eyes. Which is good. Because I want to fuck a cat, too.
But that's a different list, altogether.
I remember crushing hard on Claire Forlani when I saw Mallrats, a bazillion years ago. Forget Shannon Dougherty, Claire Forlani was the hottest chick in that flick.
Also, she's British. (see Keeley Hazel reference in the above entry)
I bet she cries when she orgasms. Look at her pouty eyes. You know she does...
See?
5. Jewell Staite
Long Time Readers of my blog can slap their hands to their foreheads collectively and say, "Of course, who DIDN'T see that coming?!?" Ms. Staite has made an appearance on this blog before.
But I still maintain that this sexy little kitten is best known as America's Girlfriend. The sweet, charming, vaguely naive girl that you want to take into your grandparents bedroom while they're at evening church and introduce the concept of the Gräfenberg spot to. There's a look on Jewel's face that always says, "That sounds dirty, but I wanna learn about it. Teach me." And of course, as a philosopher and a scholar, I want to do just that. Repeatedly. All Night Long. Or at least until my grandparents pull into the driveway!
And that's my Laminated List.
Of course, it's probably more than you wanted to know, but then again, this whole blog is full of things that you probably didn't want to know.
Sure, some late entries didn't make the cut. Uma Thurman. Thora Birch. Natalie Portman (representing the Waifish Contingent). You. But then again, this is just my list for 2007. I might give this thing an overhaul in Cock-tober of next year and see where the list stands then! A lot of starlets can have their asking price sufficiently lowered enough to pose for Playboy between now and then...
Cheers,
Mr.B
...sometimes called a freebie list, is a short list of celebrities agreed on by a couple as so attractive to one partner that he or she has standing permission to sleep with any of them if the opportunity, however unlikely, ever arises. The idea was popularized by the TV series Friends, and has since become a larger trend, showing up for example on blogs and online forums.
The list is laminated to indicate that the names, once chosen, will not be changed. One convention is that the list include only celebrities and not friends or acquaintances, in order to make it more palatable to the creator's significant other--because the situation is unlikely and because there is no risk of bringing in personal feelings about real acquaintances.
I've always had more of what you would call "A Laminated Pool" as in A Pool of People, not written down on any list, that I would give myself permission to sleep with, IF THE OPPORTUNITY AROSE, however unlikely. In my mind's eye, it's also a sexy, warm swimming pool where these ladies play and frolic always inviting me to dive right in...
But I digress...
In the interest of passing another workday at "The Temp Job Where I Literally Do Nothing All Day" and of cleaning the clutter off of my mental desk (and because my lovely girlfriend is out of town and this is the perfect time to be a dirty, dirty dog!), I am hereby draining the pool and formally declaring my list. (I will laminate it later.)
Here goes!
1. Rosario Dawson
I mean, COME ON! This sexy little senorita has reigned supreme on my laminated list before there ever was one! I fast-forwarded through that shitty "Alexander" to just catch a glimpse of her astounding mega-rack and when I saw them, my chest clutched up like an old Chevy and I nearly fell to the floor dead, right then and there.
I won't look at that scene again. I barely survived it the first time. A second viewing would surely kill me.
2. Anne Heche
I know what you're thinking.
Anne Heche?!? ANNE "I THINK I'M GOD'S DAUGHTER, CELESTIA, ALSO I MIGHT BE A LESBIAN AND I FREQUENTLY HAVE MENTAL BREAKDOWNS" HECHE?!?
Yes, THAT Anne Heche.
Look friends, this isn't the "Girls I Want To Marry And Deal With For Life" List. It's the "Girl I'd Bang All Over A Luxurious Hollywood Hotel" List. And for a wild weekend of sexy-friction, I can deal with the well-documented, internationally-famous baggage that she brings to the table.
Anne Heche is hot. Super hot. Agelessly Sexy, Hot. And what's more, she looks even better as a brunette. After I saw "Birth", I first thought, "Damn, that's a fucked up movie" and then I thought, "Sure, I can see why that dude fucked Anne Heche. She's so hot, she smolders." I mean, just LOOK at her.
That sexy, sultry lady needs a few glasses of wine in her before her motor starts purring, but once it does, she and I are totally going to destroy that tasteful coffee table of hers.
From here on out, the list gets a little fuzzy as I'm making this up as I go along...
3. Ashley Robbins
I feel obligated as a healthy, heterosexual American man to include a single porn star on my list and this is the one that I've chosen.
Sure, I can think of one or two others. Heather Brooke looks like she knows a dirty trick or two. Keeley Hazel would talk dirty to you with an English accent, that's got to be like having hot English Toffee poured on your dick. But Ashley Robbins, formerly of the Czech Republic, is the porno Tilt-A-Whirl that I would very much like to take a ride on.
Look, I won't bother listing her many talents here. Google her when you get home (without the Safe Filter) on and you'll get an idea of what she's capable of. Experimental Home Gynecology is definitely on that list.
Lord A Mercy Mighty.
4. Claire Forlani
"Nice sleeper camper, kiddo. Scoot over. I'm comin' in."
Um, yes, well, Claire Forlani. A woman that really is retardedly beautiful. Her eyes, wow, they're like cat's eyes. Which is good. Because I want to fuck a cat, too.
But that's a different list, altogether.
I remember crushing hard on Claire Forlani when I saw Mallrats, a bazillion years ago. Forget Shannon Dougherty, Claire Forlani was the hottest chick in that flick.
Also, she's British. (see Keeley Hazel reference in the above entry)
I bet she cries when she orgasms. Look at her pouty eyes. You know she does...
See?
5. Jewell Staite
Long Time Readers of my blog can slap their hands to their foreheads collectively and say, "Of course, who DIDN'T see that coming?!?" Ms. Staite has made an appearance on this blog before.
But I still maintain that this sexy little kitten is best known as America's Girlfriend. The sweet, charming, vaguely naive girl that you want to take into your grandparents bedroom while they're at evening church and introduce the concept of the Gräfenberg spot to. There's a look on Jewel's face that always says, "That sounds dirty, but I wanna learn about it. Teach me." And of course, as a philosopher and a scholar, I want to do just that. Repeatedly. All Night Long. Or at least until my grandparents pull into the driveway!
And that's my Laminated List.
Of course, it's probably more than you wanted to know, but then again, this whole blog is full of things that you probably didn't want to know.
Sure, some late entries didn't make the cut. Uma Thurman. Thora Birch. Natalie Portman (representing the Waifish Contingent). You. But then again, this is just my list for 2007. I might give this thing an overhaul in Cock-tober of next year and see where the list stands then! A lot of starlets can have their asking price sufficiently lowered enough to pose for Playboy between now and then...
Cheers,
Mr.B
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